


Isn't It Ironic.

by SeasonalDepression_WithASideOfFries



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Komaeda Nagito's Luck Cycle, Unhealthy Relationships, but anyway enjoy :D, don't worry its not a song fic, just like depressing angsty stuff I decided to write at 4am instead of going to sleep, like nothing at all, this has nothing to do with the Alanis Moressette song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26008135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasonalDepression_WithASideOfFries/pseuds/SeasonalDepression_WithASideOfFries
Summary: He could almost say it was inevitable.Even she wasn't immune to his cursed luck cycle.No one on this whole damn planet was.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko/Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 28





	Isn't It Ironic.

“I love you.”

And that was it.

That was the moment Komaeda wanted nothing more but to die.

If the situation was completely different. If it was anyone else. Really **_anyone_** else. Perhaps it would have been comically over dramatic. A classic use of “I’m so happy I could die”.

The only thing comical about this was the irony of it all.

It wasn’t even sincere. In no way would anyone truly believe those words to be genuine. Because she simply wasn’t capable of showing genuine affection. It was always twisted. Perverted. So morbidly disgusting that only those who’ve been warped enough by her tendrils would find any semblance of endearment in it.

And it was so fucking appropriate that **_he’d_** be the one to receive them.

What was sadder, he wondered. That for a few ignorant moments he reasoned that to her this was about as close to actual love she was capable of feeling, and thus perhaps in a way the words held **_some_** sort of value? Or the fact that the first time he heard those three words addressed to him it was by the one person he hated with every morsel of his worthless soul?

_“I love you.”_

Somewhere in the back on his mind he feels the formation of a permanent memory.

She made it a point to establish eye contact. Inches away from his lifeless eyes were her sinking pools of blue. And it was so strange, if he thinks about it now. He doesn’t remember the spirals of despair that so often showed when she did anything intimate with him. They were just there. Blank slates that indicated nothing. And somehow that makes him more nauseous because **_what the fuck does that mean_?**

_“I love you”_

It was stated like a fact. No argument was to be said and he didn’t even begin to contemplate any sort of response. Not any that he could control.

It was after she rested her head on his chest. When she was sleeping on him. When he had been staring at the ceiling for god ( ~~what god?~~ ) knows how long. It was then that he felt the peculiar sensation of tighten skin under dried films of expelled tears. If he had to guess, he’s sure he started crying seconds after she spoke.

It had been a while since she last made him cry. But this was the first time she did so without lifting a single finger.

He wonders if this will happen often now. Now that she knows the quickest way to break him. The quickest way to mutilate whatever remaining understanding he had of the concept of love.

He wonders if she’ll be the only one to ever tell him those words. And is it so bad if she is?

Isn’t it **_perfect_**?

For someone like him. For someone to ** _love_** him. It made so much sense. In a way he’s astounded he didn’t see it coming.

It followed the cycle. It balanced everything out. **_It made so much sense_**.

And Komaeda wanted nothing more but to die.


End file.
